


Star Trek Porn (Various) PART 2

by Exorin



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mind Sex, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Rimming, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exorin/pseuds/Exorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various fic/snippets copied over from Tumblr.</p><p>Please see each chapter title for ships. All are standalone and explicit.<br/>(Tags will be added as Chapters are)</p><p>I'm doing each listing as ??/20 (<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7681534/chapters/17497651">feel free to check out the first 20 in my previous works</a>) I just wanted to split them up a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kirk/Sulu: The One Where Sulu Realizes What Kirk Really Meant

**Author's Note:**

> _anonymous asks:  
>  Kirk never doubts Sulu's ability to fly. He knows the man is a good pilot, a DAMN good one, so he have never once doubted him during all these years. What Kirk doubts in ST:B, is the SHIP'S ability to fly. When he's asking Sulu if he can fly it, he doesn't actually ask that Sulu actually CAN fly it, he's asking can the SHIP fly. Sulu doesn't catch onto it until days later, and then he groans and feel embarrassed at having believed that the Captain would ever doubt him._

‘I shouldn’t have doubted you.’ Sulu says, and it’s days later, _god_ , it’s more than that, it’s _months_ later – and he’s frustrated with himself that he’d never realized it before, because, _fuck_ , it’s really obvious now what Kirk had _actually_  meant. 

‘Which time?’ Kirk responds, and _of course_  he’s going to make light of Sulu’s super vague apology, that’s just kind of what Kirk _does_.

‘You meant the ship. You weren’t questioning my ability to fly.’ 

And Kirk, for his part at least, has the decency to drop his standard smile and look even a little serious for once, ‘You thought I meant…’ and he trails off, like he shouldn’t even have to finish that sentence because _of fucking course_  he wasn’t questioning Sulu, _of course_  he trusts his pilot with his life as well as the lives of every single other person on the crew, but he finishes it anyway, ‘Sulu,’ he restarts and steps _far too close_  to Sulu before continuing, ‘Hikaru,’ and _damnit,_  that’s one of four times Kirk has _ever_  used his first name. ‘if it were up to me, I would never trust the Enterprise to anyone but _you_.’

It’s not, okay, it’s not like Sulu _needs_  the validation but still – there’s an underlying tone to Kirk’s voice, something soft and sweet and _honest_  that hit’s Sulu right beneath the ribcage, in a place that’s dangerously close to his heart and he’s got Kirk’s face in his hands before he really realizes what he’s doing, ‘Say it again?’ he asks and chastises himself for how _needy_  that sounds when it’s dragged along Kirk’s lips.

And _there’s that smile_ , the one that Kirk reserves for when he’s gotten his way in something or for when there’s _no escape_  and maybe it’s both this time.

‘You’re _my_ pilot.’ Kirk is saying and Sulu has no idea when Kirk’s hands ended up on his hips, just knows that Kirk’s thumbing underneath the gold of his shirt, just knows that he and Kirk are breathing the same air and that it’d be so easy to swipe his tongue into that easy mouth, ‘ _Mine.’_

Sulus’ never been big on _claims_  and _ownership_  but, _fuck,_ his knees kind of buckle at that and he’s also never been so glad for someone holding him up – it feels like they’ve been standing together, hovering over something, for _ages_  before Kirk tilts forward and presses his lips against and his tongue into Sulu’s mouth, kissing him hard, desperately, like he’s been waiting for it for too long and it’s all Sulu’s fault.

He’s backed up against the wall with Kirk’s knee shoved up between his legs and as much as he’d like to be the one in charge here, he just can’t seem to stop himself from grinding down against the sweet pressure that’s pushed up against his cock, ‘Your hands,’ Kirk says, moans out, kissing the words along Sulu’s jaw, ‘I want them on me, steady and sure, the way I watch every single day.’

And, _oh god_ , that should be cheesy, _fuck,_ it should sound absolutely  _desperate_  but Sulu can feel how hard Kirk is with the way he’s got himself pressed down against Sulu’s thigh and it’s actually weirdly flattering, like, Sulu can feel the flush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks and he really doesn’t want to make eye contact with Kirk right now because he feels _ridiculous_  about how turned on he is. 

‘C’mon Lieutenant.’ Kirk’s moaning, his hand dropped down between their bodies to undo the fastenings on his uniform slacks, ‘C’mon.’

‘If you suggest that I should _pilot you,’_ Sulu starts, reaching down to shove his hand into Kirk’s pants, his fingers slipping around the pre-come wet head, then length of Kirk’s cock and stroking once, ‘I will leave, understood?’

Kirk’s laugh is so genuine that Sulu can’t help but laugh along, tightening his fingers into a fist and jerking, hard, fast, _perfect_ – Kirk arches into his fist, curving his back and pressing harder against Sulu, his hand pushing beneath Sulu’s pants to curl around Sulu’s thick, heavy cock, working him at the same pace, keeping time. 

‘I meant it.’ Kirk says, his breath against Sulu’s lips and his eyes are  _so dark_  compared to how fucking _bright_  they normally are, ‘I don’t want anyone else in that seat.’ 

And Sulu ignores the pleased, pleasant  _ache_  in his chest again, focuses on the throbbing pulse of his cock slipping in and out of Kirk’s hand instead, sucking Kirk’s tongue into his mouth as he comes, thick and hot and white over Kirk’s knuckles, kissing Kirk hard to keep from saying something that he might regret – like how he’s never loved _anything_  as much as he loves the Enterprise and her crew and her _Captain._


	2. Kirk/Chekov: The One With The Reflective Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _anonymous asks:  
>  Is it too late to say mirror sex, and wow the inside of the enterprise sure has a lot of reflective surfaces_

Chekov can see his face in his own console. 

He never really noticed how reflective it was until now. 

There’s a red flush covering his cheeks and sneaking down his neck – he can see the way his lips look swollen from being kissed, from being spread and opened and stretched around Kirk’s cock less than five minutes prior, and, _jesus_ , his pupils are so blown that his eyes seem to be near-black looking back at him. 

And Kirk is behind him, hands strong and holding firm to his hips, his thumbs sliding under the gold of Chekov’s shirt – and Chekov’s got his uniform slacks shoved down just over the rise of his ass, keeping him from being able to get his legs spread any wider than they already are.

‘Ah, _ah, Keptin.’_  he’s moaning, watching the way those sounds shape his mouth and Kirk is fucking into him hard, pushing Chekov’s hips up against the edge of the console and Chekov can _feel_  the bruises forming when Kirk leans over him, somehow catching Chekov’s eyes in the reflection and grinning like _he knows_  that Chekov likes to watch.

‘I’m gonna get you in front of a mirror later, Ensign,’ Kirk says, confirming Chekov’s thoughts, ‘pull you back against me so you can see it,’ and Kirk’s thrusts are quickening, his teeth dragging along Chekov’s ear, ‘so you can see how hard you get, how wet, how spread open on my cock, you want that?’

Chekov chokes on the spit that’s suddenly flooding his mouth, gasping out and drooling against the console when he _moans for it_ because _yes, fuck yes_  he wants that.  

And, _christ_ , Kirk does too – his hips stuttering, breaking from the even push, shove, _fuck_  from before, his mouth opened against the soft spot just below Chekov’s ear and he’s sucking a quick mark against Chekov’s skin as he comes, thick and hot and wet into the heat of Chekov’s stretched hole. 

Kirk’s got his hand wedged between the console and Chekov’s body, palm pressed firmly over Chekov’s slacks and pushing up against his cock, stroking him through the material – Chekov’s already so close that it’s all it takes, and he’s pressing his forehead down against the coolness of console while his hips jerk up against the pressure of Kirk’s fingers, coming with a low moan.

When he finally manages to lift himself up, he can see that Kirk’s still watching him in the breath-fogged reflection, smiling in that sated, sleepy way he’s seen a thousand times, Kirk’s spent cock still throbbing inside him, ‘You just keep on surprising me Ensign.’


	3. Kirk/Bones, Kirk/Sulu, Kirk/Spock, Kirk/Scotty, Kirk/Chekov: Four and One. Comeplay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _witdiseased asks:_  
>  Kirk is the most bossy, needy fucking bottom. James T. Kirk the most cock hungry comeslut in space they can pry that headcanon from my cold dead hands. Give me all the needy bottom Kirk fics, I love it.

1\. Kirk says _please_ when he can feel Bones’ pace start to increase, when he can feel the quickness of the thrusts and the throb of Bones’ cock getting close to pulsing inside of him – he says _please_ when what he means to say is: _please Bones, please pull out, please jerk off against me, please soak my stretched-out hole with your hot come._

But what Bones hears instead is that little telltale break in Kirk’s voice, that constant beg for more that shatters Kirk’s voice down the center and makes Bones want to dig his fingers into the smooth skin of Kirk’s hips and hold hard enough to bruise and so he fucks hard and deep, drawing more of those desperate crying gasps from Kirk’s throat and stays shoved into Kirk when he comes with a grunt, flooding Kirk with heat.

 

2\. Kirk can’t talk around the length and weight of Sulu’s cock down his throat – not that he’d really want to with how heavy and thick it feels against his tongue and shoved all the way back until he can barely swallow around the fat, pre-come wet head of it and, hell, he fucking _loves_ the way Sulu wraps his fingers up in his hair and tugs, pulls Kirk’s head to wherever he wants it just so that he can push his cock just a little further down.

Though sometimes Kirk looks up at Sulu, locks eyes with him and tries to say: _please Lieutenant, please come across my lips, come across my cheeks and my eyelashes and really let me feel it_ – but Sulu can’t hear him over the wet slick sounds of Kirk’s lips sliding along his cock, only ever tightens his fingers and holds on, keeping his cock buried all the way into Kirk’s mouth until he’s coming thick and wet and hot with the pour of it running down Kirk’s throat.

 

3\.  Kirk _wants_ it so badly that he’s sure Spock can hear it flowing up his fingertips from where they’re pressed too gently to Kirk’s face, god, he’s surprised that Spock keeps coming back, that his First Officer can look him in the eyes at all after nights like these because what he wants is Spock’s hands on him, but more than that, he wants to feel the soaked tip of Spock’s cock against his skin, he wants wet lines of come streaking his chest and his neck and anywhere else Spock wants to mark him with it.

But what he gets instead, and Kirk’s still amazed that this is ever enough, is this desperate push and pull of emotions and feelings that travel between them, this _fucking_ of their minds that leaves Spock’s body shaking and the front of his slacks wet with come when he finally stands up to leave.

 

4\. ’ _Scotty, please_.’ Kirk whispers against Scotty’s neck, sliding his lips against Scotty’s skin and jerking his hips up to push his hard, leaking cock through the tight fist of Scotty’s fingers – and Scotty has him pushed back against an opened console, is pressed right up against him, so close that Kirk can feel the hot shove of Scotty’s cock pushing up against his thigh.

 _Please_ , he says again, letting his voice crack into a moan and his thighs are trembling from the quick efficiency of Scotty’s hand working his cock, _please_ , is what he’s saying when he comes, pouring thick and hot and wet over Scotty’s knuckles and what he means is: _please let me lick those fingers clean, push them into my mouth and let me suck my come off of them_ – but Scotty’s already wiping his hand on a grease soaked rag and pushing Kirk away from his work with a gentle shove.

 

1\. Kirk’s got his mouth so wide around the thick, hard length of Chekov’s cock that he can feel the stretch at the corner of his lips and when Chekov says, ‘When I come, I would like to do this on your face.’ Kirk’s cock gets impossibly harder, his mouth flooding so wet with spit that it’s leaking down his chin and all he can hear is the filthy, damp sound of Chekov’s cock pushing in and out from between his lips and the low, desperate noise he can’t seem to stop making, ‘Ha, you would like that, da _Keptin_?’

And, god, _yes_ , it’s all he wants.

Chekov’s got a hand in his hair, pulling him back, his other hand slipping around to fist the spit-slicked length of his cock and he’s got the soaked head pressed up against Kirk’s lips, letting him tongue at the slit until Chekov’s close to shaking and the first hot, wet line of come coats Kirk’s lips, the next splashing over his cheek, across the bridge of his nose, getting his eyelashes damp with it – and Kirk can’t stop moaning, his face wet and the salt-sweet taste of Chekov’s come dripping down onto his tongue where he’s sticking it out, his mouth opened and he’s panting for it.

And Chekov’s groaning, dropping his hand from his cock to fist into the gold of Kirk’s shirt and he’s pulling him up, pressing him back to the wall of the turbolift and leaning up against him, arching up on his toes to swipe his tongue over Kirk’s cheek, and _christ_ , _fuck_ , he’s making the sweetest most desperate sound while he does it that Kirk can’t even breathe – with one hand still clenched in Kirk’s shirt Chekov shoves the other down under the waistband of Kirk’s uniform slacks and fists his cock, stroking fast and just on the cusp of too hard but it’s goddamn /incredible.

'Come for me.’ Chekov says, slides the words over Kirk’s mouth while he licks his own come off of Kirk’s chin and Kirk’s gasping, groaning, fuck, he’s so far gone that it’s an easy command to follow and his hips jerk, his cock pulsing, throbbing, his come pouring thick over Chekov’s fingers, his knuckles and then against his palm when Chekov shifts his hand –  and Chekov’s eyes are dark, pupils blown black but still _shining_ when he pulls his hand free from Kirk’s pants and brings it up between their mouths and Kirk’s low and constant moan sounds shattered when Chekov presses his come soaked fingers up against Kirk’s lips.

 _Yes_ , Kirk thinks, moans, says out loud as he leans forward, eagerly taking Chekov’s finger into his mouth and swirling his tongue up the length, sucking the heat of his come off of it.


	4. Bones/Chekov: The One With Fisting (Almost)

‘Yeah, c'mon kid,’ McCoy says, breathing the words up against the shell of Chekov’s ear, 'open up for me.’ and he’s three fingers, knuckle deep and knotted up together, into the heat of Chekov’s tight hole, braced above him on his elbow and Chekov’s got his thighs spread, his legs hooked up around Bones’ waist – the kid’s making the sweetest noises, little gasps of Russian and long, rolling moans that make Bones’ cock leak wetly up against Chekov’s hip, 'You like that?’

Chekov groans, turning his head to catch Bones’ mouth with an open, needy kiss that’s all tongue and spit and _desire_ , 'Da, da, _yes_ Doktor, just,’ and Bones twists his fingers, curling them into Chekov just to make him break his sentence apart with a hitch of breath getting stuck in his throat, 'I would like it harder,’ and Chekov catches McCoy’s lower lip with his teeth and bites until Bones’ hisses, curses, using his full weight to pin him down and kiss him _hard_ , 'and also more. _Please_.’

And Bones is always cautious and careful with the young Navigator – his fingers always so soaked with lube that there’s slick dripping down Chekov’s inner thighs, that the push of his fingers are nothing more than an easy slide, 'More?’ he says, eyebrow raised and staring down into Chekov’s bright, blown eyes.

'Yes, yes, I want it.’

Chekov’s breathing hitches when Bones pulls free his fingers and adds a fourth and Chekov’s gasping, _panting_ , moaning for it immediately, reaching his hands down to curl under his knees and hold his legs further open, 'Ah, da, da, yes, _yes_.’ he’s whimpering, rambling, shaking, his eyes screwed up shut and whole body flushing with how _good_ it feels.

And McCoy’s got his thumb tucked in, hiding under the pyramid of his four fingers – he can feel the way Chekov’s hole is clenching around him, drawing his hand in and, _christ_ , he’s doing all he can to be gentle, slow, but the kid’s jerking his hips back, fucking himself down on the wide stretch of Bones’ hand pushing inside him.

'Slow it down kid.’ Bones says, his mouth trailing along Chekov’s jawline for a brief moment before he’s leaning back to kneel between the easy spread of Chekov’s legs, looking down to watch the slow thrust of his hand forward and, fuck, _fuck_ , he hears himself cursing underneath of the loud, desperate noises that Chekov’s making – Chekov’s cock is thick and hard, drenched in precome and soaking his stomach with it and _everything_ sounds filthy and _wet_ and he’s got Chekov’s cock in his fist before he even realizes that he’s moved.

Chekov is arching, pushing his hips up to slide his cock into the tight circle of Bones’ fingers and then driving back, taking Bones’ hand a little further into the incredible heat of his still-stretching hole every single time and _jesuschrist_ , Bones doesn’t even have to do anything here, just watches, memorizing everything, his eyes going dark and he’s not even going to have to touch his own cock to get off at this stage.

And then Chekov’s shouting with his thighs trembling and voice shattering when Bones tightens his fist _just_ so around his cock and he’s arching up again, coming hard, pouring over McCoy’s fingers, over his own chest, and his hips are canted up high enough that he can feel the wet heat of it splash over his chin and his lips too and McCoy’s following him along, falling forward with barely enough time to brace himself, muttering about how Chekov’s _gonna be the death of him._

Chekov winces when Bones finally, slowly, withdraws his hand and Bones wipes his come-wet hand off on the sheets before brushing the sweat-dampened curls of Chekov’s hair away from his forehead, 'You doin’ okay?’ he asks, kissing Chekov’s temple, his cheek, the tip of his nose and Chekov’s little laughing huff of air makes McCoy’s forehead scrunch up with brief annoyance, 'What.’

'You are just very sweet, _Doktor_ ,’ Chekov smiles, his voice going soft and sleepy, his eyes closed, 'despite what you would have others believe about you.’


	5. Kirk/Sulu: The One With Some Feelings But Mostly Just Fucking

Kirk corners Sulu in the turbolift, they’re both too early to relieve Delta Shift and it’s so, _so_ easy for Kirk to slide his hand under the gold of Sulu’s shirt and lean in close, ‘You wanna come with me for a minute Lieutenant?’ he asks, whispers, smiling against the patch of skin just under Sulu’s ear, 'We’ve got some time before we’re needed on the bridge.’

They end up in a briefing room on B Deck, Kirk laughing against the hot press of Sulu’s mouth as soon as the door slides shut with Kirk’s fingers tapping his override code to keep it closed, 'Reminds me of my Academy days.’ he says when Sulu stops kissing him just long enough to raise his eyebrows.

'Of course it does,’ and Sulu’s got his hands on Kirk’s waist, maneuvering him around and backing him up against the large table that takes up most of the room, 'you want me to be your Professor, _cadet_?’ he asks and Kirk _moans_ , loud and unabashed, turning in Sulu’s arms until he can bend himself over the edge of the polished wood – he pushes his ass back just to get a feel for Sulu’s rapidly hardening cock and he’s moaning again, looking over his shoulder, his eyes getting dark.

'Not today,’ he starts, hooking his thumbs just under the waist of his pants and tugging them down over the curve of his ass, 'today I want to feel your come inside me, want you to know that it’s leaking down my thighs for our _whole shift_.’

’ _Jesus, Kirk_ ,’ Sulu groans, his fingers digging into Kirk’s hips and he drags his still-covered cock up along Kirk’s bared ass, 'you know we don’t have time for that.’

'Yes we do.’ Kirk is chewing on his lower lip, trying to play innocent but Sulu can see the grin in his eyes when he says, 'I took care of it for you already.’

Sulu’s mouth floods with spit at just how fucking _incorrigible_  Kirk is, how incredible – and he has to swallow, hard, before he’s saying, 'Show me.’

And, _jesus_ , Kirk’s reaching back, his fingers getting a good grip of his ass cheeks before he’s pulling them apart, spreading them open to show Sulu the soaked, stretched-out pucker of his hole, 'I’ve been thinking about your cock all day long, Lieutenant,’ he says, pressing his forehead down against the coolness of the table and _sighing_ when one of Sulu’s hands slips off his waist so that he can press the tip of his index finger up against that needy hole, tracing the rim before pushing forward, 'couldn’t help it, had to fuck myself, but it just wasn’t enough,’ and Sulu’s only half paying attention to Kirk’s voice, his finger sinking in, knuckle deep with an easy slide, ’ _god_ , fuck me already, I’ve been waiting for your cock.’

Kirk’s still holding himself open when Sulu shoves into him in a long, slow push, both of them moaning – his hand back on Kirk’s hip and the other curled around the back of Kirk’s neck, pinning him face down and holding him there, 'I can’t believe you,’ Sulu groans, his hips jerking forward, harder this time, Kirk’s hole so drenched with lube that the whole room sounds wet and filthy with every slide, 'I should leave you here, aching for it,’ and Sulu’s leaning over him, dragging his teeth along Kirk’s ear, while he fucks into him in short, fast thrusts, 'or maybe I should come on your face instead, send you to command the best ship in the fleet with my come dripping off of you.’

Kirk turns his face to the side, gasping, his mouth opened, _panting_ and drooling over the shine of the wooden table, ’ _Please_ ,’ he whimpers and his voice shatters into another loud moan when Sulu slams back into him, hard enough that he can feel the edge of the table cutting bruises into his hipbones, ’ _fuck_ , do _whatever_ you want.’

'You’d love that, wouldn’t you _Captain_ ,’ and _christ_ , Kirk can feel the stutter of Sulu’s hips, can feel the way Sulu’s cock throbs inside of him, his pace building fast, hard, 'love for everyone to see what a filthy little slut you are, _fuck_ , who on this ship _hasn’t_ come in you, _on_ you.’

And Kirk _moans_ , shouts and arches beneath Sulu, throwing his head back against Sulu’s shoulder when he comes and Sulu’s got his fingers curled under the collar of Kirk’s gold shirt, pulling at it until Kirk can feel the drag of Sulu’s teeth biting into the slope of his neck, sucking another bruise to the surface while his hips shove forward again, once, twice, and he’s moaning against Kirk’s skin, filling Kirk’s hole with the wet, hot, thick pour of his orgasm.

When they’re dressed and alone in the turbolift again with Kirk’s neck and cheeks still flushed and with Sulu standing _just a little too close_ , Sulu sighs and drags his thumb over the edge of the mark that Kirk’s shirt doesn’t seem to quite cover, 'Sorry about that.’

Kirk smiles, shouldering Sulu gently, ’S'okay, it’s not the first time,’ and he looks over, ducking down a little to catch Sulu’s eyes, 'you’re still cool with the whole non-exclusive thing, yeah?’

'What? Yes.’

'It’s just, you got a little, _you know_ ,’ Kirk waves his hands around in a vague way that doesn’t really explain anything and doesn’t really need to, before he touches his own fingertips to the mark on his neck 'I just wanted to check.’

'And here I thought you liked it when I get a little,’  and Sulu mimics the motions that Kirk just displayed, ’ _you know._ ’

Kirk’s grinning again, that easy smile that lights up his whole face, leaning in to kiss up along Sulu’s jawline until his mouth is against Sulu’s ear, 'Oh, I do,’ he whispers and it drives shivers down Sulu’s spine, 'and I’m gonna be thinking about it while I’m sitting in my chair with your come dripping from my hole.’

And Sulu’s breath catches in his throat, his cock _somehow_ twitching, thickening again and he’s just about to slam his hand on the emergency stop when the turbolift door slides open to the bridge, 'With all due respect, Captain,’ he says, stepping out of the lift behind Kirk, 'I fucking hate you.’  


	6. Bones/Sulu: The One With Too Much Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is terrible and i'm sorry for that.

‘Does he call you Doctor?’ Sulu asks and there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth that immediately annoys McCoy and he bites down against Sulu’s already bruised hipbone in response, sharp enough that Sulu hisses under his breath and arches away from the drag of McCoy’s teeth.

'We’re not here to discuss Chekov, Lieutenant.’

Sulu has a leg hooked over McCoy’s shoulder, a hand in the doctor’s hair and he’s tugging him forward, dragging him up until he’s bent, easily but awkwardly, with McCoy’s hard cock pressed up between his ass cheeks, 'We’re not? I thought we were comparing notes,’ and Sulu actually _does_ grin when McCoy fucks his hips forward and grinds up against him, 'ah, you were so curious about Kirk earlier.’

(And yeah, _yeah_ , that’s how this all started – with McCoy wondering about all of Kirk’s recent bruises, all of the marks Sulu’d sucked into his skin, all of the bites climbing up Kirk’s thighs. He’d made Sulu recount them all while he’d traced his fingertips and mouth over the same spots on Sulu’s body just to see the contrast).

'Should _I_ call you Doctor? Is that a thing you like?’

'No.’ McCoy damn near growls and shuts Sulu up for a few moments with the wet shove of his tongue into that smart mouth – and Sulu _moans_ into the kiss, his fingers in McCoy’s hair tightening and he’s pulling hard enough that McCoy winces, groans, slides his cock back through the sweat-slicked channel of Sulu’s ass, 'I’m a professional, this isn’t a goddamn _kink_.’

'You’re being /very professional right now.’ Sulu says, glancing pointedly at the door of McCoy’s office – and that’s almost enough to make McCoy walk away, _almost_ , but Sulu’s using his free hand to reach down between the too-close press of their bodies to grab hold of McCoy’s cock and he’s lining them up, pushing back, sinking down and _fuck_ , yeah, okay, McCoy isn’t going anywhere other than into the easy, finger-stretched heat of Sulu’s hole, 'Come on McCoy, we’re already here so do your job.’

McCoy groans, can’t really help it when Sulu clenches around him and all that tight, wet pressure feels fucking incredible around his cock, 'And what job is that?’ he says, biting the words out between long, low moans.

'Make me feel good, _Doctor_.’

And, goddamnit, he’s so annoyed about his body’s reaction to that word when it’s pressed all hot and soft against his ear – his hips shoving forward, pushing hard enough that Sulu’s dragged back over the spread of McCoy’s desk and Sulu huffs out a laugh under his breath, arching and letting his legs fall open, wide, around McCoy’s waist just to give him a better angle, 'I’ll make you feel _something_ all right.’ he mutters, saying it against the curve of Sulu’s neck.

He’s got his hands on Sulu’s thighs, fingers digging in, keeping Sulu’s legs spread and he can feel the tissue under his fingertips, knows he’s leaving marks that will _ache_ and _bruise_ into a deep purple in just a few hours and, christ, Sulu has his eyes squeezed shut, his back arched, his mouth open and he’s making these little desperate noises that McCoy has never heard from him before – he imagines that these are the sounds Kirk’s used to hearing, the two of them constantly on the verge of fighting or fucking or _both_.

And it’s been such a fucking long time since McCoy has let himself go like this that he’s way too close to coming already and Sulu’s gasping, holding on to the edge of the desk behind him and shoving back just as hard as McCoy’s giving it, saying,  _yeah, yeah, fucking yes_ , over and over before punctuating his sudden orgasm with a shout of _Doctor_.


	7. Kirk/Chekov/Sulu: The One Where Kirk Gets Ruined

Kirk’s got his hands behind him, they’re wedged between his back and Sulu’s chest and with the way Sulu’s got his arm wrapped around Kirk’s chest to keep him still, he can’t really move them – which is fine, as Kirk wouldn’t know what to do with his hands right now even if they were free.

He has his legs spread open, stretched wide over Sulu’s thighs with his Pilot’s cock shoved into him, as deep as he can and, _christ_ , Kirk is vulnerable like this – sitting in Sulu’s lap and unable to move for himself, just being fucked upwards with every little jerk of Sulu’s hips.

And, _fuck_ , then there’s Chekov.

Chekov who’d walked into the quarters he and Sulu share  _just_  as Kirk’d been sinking down on Sulu’s cock in that long, slow, first push and he’d felt a tiny, ridiculous moment of panic before Sulu’s lips had curved into an obvious smile against the curve of Kirk’s neck, dragging his teeth along the skin while saying: _took you long enough._

And Chekov hadn’t even removed his uniform before crossing the room and sinking down onto his knees, and, _shityeah_ , Kirk really should have known that he could only go so long fucking them both individually before something like _this_  happened. 

Not that he’s complaining, at all – not that he even could with the way his voice keeps cracking into moans with every little shove, every long, broad lick of Chekov’s tongue up the length of his cock and Sulu’s breathing hard behind him and Kirk knows it’s because Chekov keeps ducking his head down, tilting to get his mouth, _somehow_ , pressed up against the wet slide of Sulu’s cock as he fills himself into Kirk’s stretched-out hole.

And, _jesuschrist_ , Kirk goddamn loves Chekov’s mouth, loves how spit soaked Chekov makes his cock, _fuck_  he loves the noise of it – those filthy, wet, slurping sounds that he’s never heard anyone make before, at least, not in the way Chekov does. 

Wet and hot and loud with the back of his throat tight and clenching and fucking _vibrating_  with moans from how much he likes sucking Kirk’s off.

And Sulu with his fucking teeth, _god_ , Kirk can’t get enough of the way Sulu marks up his collarbone and shoulders and bites down on every single slope of Kirk’s body – leaving him sore and _aching_  for days with the hint of bruises just peaking out from his uniform.

Kirk’s so damn close – wants to free his hands just to hook them under his legs and _pull_   _up_ , let Chekov get his tongue down to where he _really_  wants it and hear the sound of Sulu fully bottoming out into him but Sulu’s not letting up on keeping him still and he just has to sit there and _take it_  and it’s infuriating in the same way that it’s fucking _incredible._

‘Come on Kirk,’ Sulu says and, yeah _yeah,_  Sulu’s voice is shattered too, all broken up into groans when Kirk clenches down around the throb of his cock, ‘you know what he wants from you.’

And Chekov’s making these little noises in his throat, agreeing while swallowing Kirk’s cock right down to the base, with his nose shoved up against Kirk’s stomach and, _fuck_ , he’s looking up with those bright eyes and just goddamn _asking for it_ without having to say anything because, _yeah_ , _jesuschrist_ , Kirk knows exactly what he wants.

Sulu’s hand curls around Kirk’s cock when Chekov eases off just far enough that he can still lap up the salt-sweat beads of Kirk’s precome along the slit of his cockhead and moan like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted and Sulu’s groaning against Kirk’s ear, teasing the lobe with his teeth and fisting Kirk’s cock with quick, long strokes – his cock still fucking into Kirk’s tight hole with short little thrusts that are both not enough and too fucking much.

And Kirk can hear the way his voice sounds, totally wrecked and ruined, all shattered and hoarse from how long he’s been fucking _begging_  to come – not that he’d realized that he had been, just knows that he talks and talks and talks when he’s out of control and _yeah, fucking yes,_  he can feel the buildup at the base of his spine and with the way he’s fucking his own hips back against Sulu’s cock with everything he’s got and, _jesus_ , he’d somehow forgotten how _into it_  Chekov is, the first spill of Kirk’s hot come splashing over Chekov’s lips and Chekov’s got his eyes screwed shut and the palm of his hand shoved down over his slacks and pressing hard against his cock and fuck, _fuck_ , Kirk can see the way he’s shivering through his own orgasm just from the pour of Kirk’s come striping his face.

 _Oh fuck_ , Sulu groans, biting down on a place that most certainly will _not_  be covered by the gold of Kirk’s shirt but it’s fine, _fuck_ , it’s _good_  because it means that Sulu’s not thinking any more and Sulu drops his hands to Kirk’s thighs, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave even more marks pressed along Kirk’s body (and _jesuschrist,_ Bones is going to fucking kill him) just so that he can get a better angle and then he’s coming, soaking Kirk’s hole with the thick, wet heat of his come.

Chekov’s got his hands under Kirk’s knees, pushing them up and _of fucking course_  he’s not through here yet, not with how incredibly, amazingly filthy his Ensign is – and _yeah_ , Chekov’s got his tongue shoved up against Kirk’s hole even before Sulu’s managed to pull out and fucking _everyone_  is moaning from it. 

There’s no way that Kirk’s going to get hard again, not for at least a half-hour but, _fuck_  if it doesn’t feel fantastic to have Chekov tonguing his leaking, cock-stretched hole and Sulu’s just staying put, stroking his fingertips up along Kirk’s inner thighs until Kirk is trembling from over-stimulation and Sulu’s just leaning over Kirk’s shoulder to watch, breathing hard and not saying anything.

And Kirk _wants_ to say something, _thank you_  or something (hopefully) more clever than that but his throat feels so fucking raw that all he can do is make these low whimpering noises and stretch his legs out wider.


	8. Chekov/Sulu, Chekov/Bones, Chekov/Spock, Chekov/Scotty, Chekov/Kirk: Rimming

**Sulu**  
Sulu likes to grab Chekov by his hair, likes to reach back and tangle his fingers into the curls and pull, direct, _pilot_ him – he’s bent over his desk, papers thrown to the side, his forehead pressed down against the polished wood, with the hand that’s not wrapped up in Chekov’s hair curled over the edge of the desk, the tendons in his arm standing out with how hard he’s holding.

‘Just, ah, just like that.’ He moans and Chekov tilts his head just a little bit more, shoves his tongue into the spit-soaked mess of Sulu’s hole, fucks it into him in short, sharp little jabs, humming around every lick and every swipe of his tongue.

Sulu’s trying to stretch his thighs open wider but he’s all caught up in his pants where they’re stuck around his knees – he wants to curse Chekov for pinning him down the moment he’d stepped through the door, for leaving him stuck like this but Chekov’s got his fingertips digging into the firm rounds of Sulu’s ass and he’s groaning like he never plans on stopping and Sulu can’t really hate him for that.

**Bones**  
There’s just something about the kid that renders Bones completely unable to make rational decisions, hell, it’s how Chekov continues to talk him into things like this – things like having Chekov’s mouth wrapped all hot and wet and _soaked_ around his cock, sliding up and down along the length and Bones just lets it happen, this isn’t even the first time.

He let’s Chekov push him back while he’s sucking him off until Bones is laying, back flat to his mattress and the kid’s pushing at his thighs, spreading them wider and hooking his hands underneath of Bones’ knees and then his sweet mouth is gone from Bones’ cock, teeth dragging along his inner thigh instead and, _fuck_ , Bones is getting ready to complain about the coldness of the air against his spit-slicked cock just as Chekov’s tongue swipes between his ass cheeks and just _gently_ brushes up against the tightness of his hole.

‘Whoa now kid, what in the –’

And he wants to be frustrated by Chekov’s smile against his skin but then there’s a tongue full and wide and flat against him and Chekov’s moaning louder than Bones has ever heard from him and, _jesuschrist_ , he should hate this, it’s so _unsanitary_ but, ah hell, Chekov’s tongue is so wet and pressing into him and, _fuck it_ , Jim always says he needs to learn how to let go.

**Spock**  
'This is not logical.’ Spock says, biting back a groan and purposefully ignoring the way his thighs are trembling – he’s face down against his sheets, knees bent and spread and he can _feel_ Chekov’s grin against his ass in the same way that he can feel Chekov’s pure, visceral _enjoyment_ thrumming inside his head.

And it’s very _very_ rare that Spock will let this happen, in fact, it’s only when Chekov’s mind is screaming the visuals through their tentative mind-link that Spock let’s up and actually allows the young navigator to touch him like this – skin to skin is difficult and Chekov has never quite mastered the art of not throwing _every. single. feeling._ at Spock.

So when Chekov moans, his face buried between the parting of Spock’s ass and breathes out against the tight, clenching pucker of Spock’s hole before licking a long, wet stripe over him, Spock fucking _feels_ it from the tips of his toes all the way up to his mind. 

And it’s not just the physical, hell, it’s _barely_ that, no, it’s the way Chekov’s pushing his enjoyment into every touch and every lick, thrusting his tongue into the heat of Spock’s body and loving every moment of it. 

It is absolutely not logical.

**Scotty**  
They’re stumbling drunk and Chekov’s somehow still doing a fine job of getting Scotty undressed and pushed up against the door to his quarters when it slides shut – he’s kissing along Scotty’s shoulders and down along his spine with fingers sliding around Scotty’s waist to get to the fastenings of Scotty’s pants, to get them shoved down around Scotty’s knees.

Scotty’s already breathing hard, his cock twitching and filling out where it’s pressed up against the coolness of the door and he’s kind of drifting – pleasantly buzzed with Chekov’s hands on him has pretty much become his favourite place to be.

'Ah, lad, get up here.’ He says, slurring his words, and he just barely hears Chekov saying _nyet_ with his hands tugging Scotty’s ass cheeks apart before Chekov is pushing his face between them – his breath is so hot and warm and wet and sudden that Scotty pulls away fast, his hips jerking up against the door and he’s huffing a low laugh alongside his groan, 'Little warning next time, aye?’

And he can feel Chekov nodding, pulling Scotty back against him before he’s running his tongue up along the tight clench of Scotty’s hole, getting him nice and wet and, _yeah_ , this is definitely his favourite place.

**Kirk**  
Chekov’s got his fingers in Kirk’s already cock-stretched, come-soaked hole, three wide and curling into him with fast, hard shoves that keep Kirk’s legs spread out and Kirk’s struggling to hold himself open, shaking and moaning when Chekov leans forward to lick up a stripe of his own come from where it’s leaking out of Kirk, dragging his tongue up the inside of Kirk’s thigh.

Chekov has his other hand wrapped around Kirk’s spit and precome wet cock, stroking to the opposite beat of his fingers pushing and pulling in and out of Kirk’s body until Kirk’s whimpering and whining and fucking _drooling_ , coming thick and hot over Chekov’s knuckles and Kirk looks down, breathing hard, just in time to see Chekov sucking one of his fingers into his mouth, 'Fuck, _Chekov_.’ Kirk says, groans and, _fuck_ , he wants to taste himself off of Chekov’s skin as well.

But Chekov’s slipping his fingers free from Kirk’s clenching hole instead, slowly replacing them with the ones still soaked with Kirk’s come and Chekov’s spit and he’s pressing them in, one at a time, watching Kirk’s hole suck the white from them before ducking his head down and shoving his tongue into the wet, come-mixed heat.

Kirk arches and shouts, wincing at how shattered and broken his voice sounds and his fingers under his knees are tightening hard enough that he’s going to bruise _himself_ at this rate but, _jesuschrist_ , he didn’t think it was possible for his spent cock to fill out again that fast and he’s feeling lightheaded and over-sensitive but, ‘ _Don’t stop_ ’, he whimpers and fucks himself back against that sweet tongue.


	9. Kirk/Sulu: The One Where Sulu Is A Jerk (Plus Buttplugs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _witdiseased asked:  
>  Okay but what about Sulu following through with Jim's dirty talk and actually plugs him right before Jim has to go on duty and Jim has to spend his whole shift on the bridge plugged. Whether or not they fucked before Jim is plugged is up to you._

‘I got you something,’ Sulu says, mouthing the words against the wet head of Kirk’s cock with his tongue dipping out to taste the salt-sweet beads of precome forming there and Kirk groans, dragging his fingers through Sulu’s hair, looking down at him with his mouth slightly parted, slightly panting, and he’s shifting his legs open impossibly wider for the way Sulu’s pushing his fingers down below his balls and up to stroke over the clench of his hole – Sulu’s smiling when he twists two of them in at once, soaked wet with lube and Kirk arches, moaning over Sulu saying, ‘yeah, just look at you. I saw it and knew you’d want it.’

'Don’t have time for this,’ Kirk almost whimpers, jerking his hips back against the press of Sulu’s fingers, 'have to get to the bridge.’ and it’s one of those rare times where they’re not actually scheduled together – Sulu having to report to the botany lab to deal with whatever has been taking it over – but Sulu just ignores him, still working his fingers into Kirk’s hole, stretching them out while sucking Kirk’s cock down to the back of his throat, swallowing hard enough that Kirk’s voice cracks into a long, needy moan.

And suddenly, just like that, Sulu’s pulling off of him with a damp, filthy sounding _pop_ and Kirk’s pushing his hips up, chasing those gorgeous lips, 'You’re right, we don’t,’ he says just before leaning over Kirk with his hand still lingering between the easy spread of Kirk’s thighs, 'that was kind of my plan.’

Kirk narrows his eyes, opening his mouth to say something or maybe to order Sulu to continue but instead he’s gasping and gripping Sulu’s shoulders and there’s something round and smooth and slicked pushing into his finger-stretched hole, spreading him out and Sulu’s still smiling down at him, licking his lower lip and watching the shift of Kirk’s expression, 'You said you wanted to still feel me on the bridge, _Captain_.’

'Ah, you,’ and Kirk’s throat feels dry from how much he’s moaning for it, the flared out push of the plug sinking into him with every gentle twist of Sulu’s wrist, 'you can’t, ah, be serious.’ and it _must_ be fully inside him now, filling him up and keeping his hole spread opened and Sulu’s tracing his fingers around his rim, getting a good feel for the way it’s keeping Kirk gasping, 'I can’t,’ he _whines_ , and squeezes his eyes shut, 'can’t, ah, fuck, work in this.’

'You can.’ Sulu says with one hand on Kirk’s cheek and the other still pressing up against the base of the plug, making Kirk arch underneath of him with every touch, 'You will.’ and Sulu catches Kirk’s lip between his teeth, dragging Kirk’s mouth open to swipe his tongue inside and kiss him hard – and when he pulls back, Kirk follows, groaning low and clinging to him until he can’t reach any more.

'Now get dressed.’ and, _jesuschrist_ , Kirk is going to kill him later, 'I’ll see you after shift.’


	10. Kirk/Sulu: The One That Continues From Chapter 9

Kirk finds him in the botany lab, ‘Clear the room.’ he says, walking in like he owns the place, which, you know, technically he does for all intents and purposes – the people who are _not_ Sulu stand and exit quickly, they don’t even try to meet Kirk’s eyes as they pass, not with the way Kirk is looking right now: like he might just be ready to start airlocking anyone who gets between he and Sulu.

'Hey Captain,’ Sulu smiles, remaining seated, tilting his head to watch Kirk slam his fingers back against the console by the door, locking it the moment it’s down to just the two of them, 'I figured out the problem down here, it’s all sorted now.’ Sulu continues, pushing himself back on his chair and swiveling it around when Kirk walks over to him – his steps uneven, fingers twitching and Sulu’s smile widens, 'How was your shift?’

Kirk’s got a fist in the front of Sulu’s shirt and he’s pulling hard, dragging Sulu up to his feet before pressing him back against the wall, 'Fuck me,’ he says and Sulu can hear the way his voice is broken, just under the surface, needy and _wanting_ , 'right now Lieutenant. Fuck me right here.’ and Kirk’s got himself pressed up against Sulu’s leg, his cock hard and thick and he’s jerking his hips forward desperately for even just a little bit of friction.

'I half expected you to jerk off before getting here,’ and Sulu’s got a hand on Kirk’s hip, his other sneaking around to cup Kirk’s ass, to press up against the seamline and _push_ , feeling for that flared out base he knows is there, ’m'glad you didn’t.’

Kirk gasps when Sulu’s fingers find it, his thighs trembling hard and, _fuck_ , he’s so wet that he can feel his precome soaking his pants, 'C'mon,’ he groans and he’s fitting his hand between the press of their bodies, pulling at the fastenings until he can get Sulu’s pants open and off, giving up when they’re only half shoved down his pilot’s hips, 'get this thing out of me and fill me up with your cock,’ and, _jesuschrist_ , he’s so desperate for it that he’s untangling himself from Sulu’s arms just to turn around and bend himself over the desk – his hands shaking when he pushes his pants down over the rise of his ass, 'hard and rough, _please_ Sulu. Now.’

Sulu sucks in a breath, stumbling forward while he watches all of this happen – his eyes getting dark, pupils blowing out black and he can’t look away from the mess that is James T. Kirk, all spread out over Sulu’s desk with his legs kicked out wide and his ass pushing back against nothing, the tight pucker of his hole clenching around the base of the plug that’s been filling his ass up for hours now and Sulu’s mouth is so filled with spit that he has to take a moment just to swallow it all down, 'Christ Kirk,’ he says and can’t believe how low and how shaky his voice sounds, ’ _Look at you_.’

'Enough looking,’ and Kirk’s reaching back, his fingers pushing into his hole alongside the plug, twisting, groaning, arching while he tugs it free and Sulu’s there to take it from him before Kirk drops it, placing it on near the edge of the desk before running both of his hands under the gold of Kirk’s shirt and down along his ass, 'please, come on.’

Sulu’s hands are shaking when he finally curls his fingers around Kirk’s hips, the thick, hard tip of his cock pushing into the tight, wet heat of Kirk’s hole and _fuck_ , both of them are moaning from it – Kirk’s hips shove back, hard and sudden, and Sulu’s glad he’s holding onto something, 'Fuck.’ he breathes out, Kirk’s ass pressed all the way back, pushed up against Sulu’s pelvis and Kirk’s making these little broken whimpering sounds, flexing his ass and trying to take Sulu impossibly deeper.

'Hard,’ Kirk says again, reaching up to wrap his fingers around the edges of the desk, 'and fast.’

Sulu groans, pulling back almost all of the way before slamming his hips forward and burying his cock right back, all the way in the clench of Kirk’s hole and _jesuschrist_ , yeah, this isn’t going to last for either of them – not with the pace Sulu sets or with the way Kirk keeps _begging_ for more, for harder, for faster.

Kirk’s coming first, arching his spine and shouting loud enough that Sulu’s really hoping that the botany lab is soundproof – his plug and cock-stretched hole tightening around the throb of Sulu’s cock and Sulu’s leaning over him, biting down against the curve of Kirk’s shoulder hard enough to bruise while he fills him up with the thick, hot pour of his come.

And both of them are breathing hard, sweat-slicked and riding out the last little shockwaves of their orgasms, 'We’re doing this again.’ Kirk says and Sulu huffs out a small laugh under his breath because, yeah, of course they are.


	11. Kirk/Sulu: The One Where Sulu Is Captain

Sulu has Kirk pinned up against the wall of his quarters, both of Kirk’s wrists trapped under one of Sulu’s hands – his fingers squeezing tight enough to bruise and Sulu’s mouth is working up along Kirk’s jawline, dragging teeth and tongue along his skin and up to his ear, ‘You should really know your place by now.’ he says and Kirk exhales, fast and sharp, his legs shifting open for the way Sulu’s thigh pushes up in between them and he can feel Sulu’s grin right underneath of his earlobe, pressed against his skin.

‘Yeah?’ Kirk asks and it’s more of a breathy moan than a real question and he’s shoving his hips down against the pressure of Sulu’s leg, rubbing his hard, thick cock up against Sulu, 'And where’s that then.’

'Where’s that then, _Captain_.’

Sulu’s voice is low, rough, right up against the curve of Kirk’s neck when he says it, biting down right at the spot where neck meets shoulder and Kirk’s knees almost give out, his voice breaking right down the center, he _moans_ when he repeats the word, ’ _Captain_.’ and tries to pull out of Sulu’s grip just to get his hands on him – but Sulu’s fingers clench harder, keeping him pinned while he circles his thigh up against Kirk’s cock again in fleeting, perfect patterns that are never enough.

'Again.’ he says, sucking a bruise onto Kirk’s shoulder, his free hand slipping down between Kirk’s back and the wall – pushing lower, his knuckles dragging over the bumps of Kirk’s spine until he’s pressing his hand beneath the waistline of Kirk’s pants and down, down between the part of his ass, fingertips ghosting over the clench of Kirk’s hole, 'Say it again.’

'Yes sir,’ Kirk sighs, torn between pushing forward against Sulu’s thigh and shoving back against the too-soft press of Sulu’s fingers against him, 'yes, _Captain_.’ and he’s shifting his legs further apart, his head tilted back to let Sulu mark his way up Kirk’s throat, Sulu’s tongue swiping hotly into Kirk’s mouth just as Kirk finishes saying, 'Tell me my place.’

Sulu’s got a finger pressed up against Kirk’s hole, sinking in dry, just up to the first little bend and Kirk _arches_ , moaning into the heat of Sulu’s mouth, 'On your hands and knees.’ Sulu whispers, licking the words between Kirk’s lips before letting go of Kirk’s wrists and stepping back to give him room to move – and Kirk almost falls, barely catches himself on trembling legs before he’s scrambling down onto the floor, shoving his pants down over the rise of his ass and pressing his forehead down to the carpet.

'Jesus Kirk,’ Sulu says, swallowing down the spit that floods his mouth at the sight of Kirk like this and, fuck, it’ll never get old watching Kirk _submit_ without hesitation, 'what am I going to do with you?’

And he didn’t really mean it as a question but he still has to steady himself with a hand against the wall when Kirk looks back over his shoulder, face flushed and eyes dark with the bruises on his neck already turning purple and says, 'Anything you want, Captain Sulu.’

Kirk’s a mess by the time Sulu _finally_ manages to get two fingers slicked and shoved and twisted into the tight heat of his hole – he’s pushing his ass back, fucking himself back against them and panting, open mouthed, drooling onto the carpet with every drag of Sulu’s fingers inside him, and, _jesus_ , Sulu’s not even undressed yet, just leaning up against the back of Kirk’s thigh, riding his cock against the pressure of Kirk shoving back.

'Want you to fuck me,’ Kirk says, gasping it out between each curl of Sulu’s fingers, 'want to feel you come inside me.’

And Sulu’s groaning, leaning over Kirk’s arching back, thrusting up harder against Kirk’s thigh and pulling his fingers free just to add a third in, knotting them together, 'I want to watch you come from this, from just my fingers.’ Sulu’s biting the words into the back of Kirk’s neck and grabbing a fistful of Kirk’s hair with his free hand to pull his head back, 'You think you can do that.’ and the line of Kirk’s neck, stretched back, is to perfect to not bruise with his lips and mouth and tongue.

Kirk shouts, cursing and bucking his hips back, his thighs slipping open further for Sulu’s fingers and he can vaguely feel the way the carpet scratches up his skin, burning against his knees but it’s _nothing_ compared to the twist of of Sulu’s hand and the drag of his teeth, 'Yes.’ he’s gasping out and it’s partly in answer but mostly because his cock’s already soaked wet from precome and hanging heavy between his legs, and, fuck, he’s so goddamn close that it won’t take more than a few more strokes of those familiar fingers inside him to get him there.

'Yes what?’

And Kirk can feel the the quick-build at the base of his spine, that instant shock of his body tensing then cresting and he barely chokes out a final, ’ _Captain_.’ before he’s jerking back against Sulu and coming hard, lining his chest and stomach and floor with the messy spill of his come and Sulu’s gasping along with him – his fingers tightening and pulling through Kirk’s hair, his covered cock twitching up against Kirk’s hip before Kirk can feel the dampness of Sulu’s orgasm pressed to his skin.

'Should I be worried,’ Kirk starts, groaning when Sulu slowly pulls his three fingers free from Kirk’s hole and Sulu makes a tired, quiet questioning sound, 'about you and this _Captain thing_.’

Sulu laughs and kisses one of the many marks marring Kirk’s shoulder-blades, 'Not yet, sir.’


	12. Sulu/Chekov: The One Where Sulu Is Keptin

Chekov starts calling Sulu _Keptin_ shortly after the Khan incident, always low and under his breath, whispered quietly across the space between them on the helm or pressed softly, too-close to Sulu’s ear in the mess hall and Sulu tries to ignore the way it curls up, hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach, tries not to think about how it sounds coming from that sweet, smiling mouth because the only other person who calls him that is Kirk – and when Kirk says it, it’s said surrounded by moans and bitten back gasps and it means: _now, please Sulu, I need you to take control from me._

It builds and builds between them like a thunderstorm, or that’s how it feels to Sulu, all crackling energy that Sulu doesn’t know what to do with and he can’t seem to figure out if Chekov knows what he’s doing, can’t decide if it’s just an innocent nickname until Chekov says it in their closed quarters, leaning over Sulu at his desk with his chin resting on Sulu’s shoulder and breathes it out like a question, his lips pressed right up behind Sulu’s ear.

Sulu exhales and it’s long and noticeably shaky, his fingers clenching around the wooden edge of his desk, ‘Ensign.’ he says, his lips twitching up into a small smile when he hears the little hitch of Chekov’s breath catching and he’s standing and turning around before he really makes the conscious decision to, backing Chekov up until he’s got his back pressed against the wall.

And, yeah, Sulu can see it now, can see the edge to Chekov’s smile and the way his pupils are blowing black already, stretching out to cover the green of his eyes, ‘Was there something you wanted?’ Sulu asks, catching both of Chekov’s hands when he reaches out for him and slamming them back against the wall, pinning them above his head and Chekov _moans_ , loud, tilting his head back like an offering.

'Da, _Keptin_ ,’ Chekov says, making a low, pleased, needy sound when Sulu drags his teeth along that exposed curve of throat, just a tease of contact before he’s shifting his hips to lock them into place against Chekov’s and _push_ , grinding the hard, hot line of their cocks up against each other and Chekov gasps, struggling against Sulu’s hold on his wrists but not enough to really mean it and he’s moaning, 'this. This is what I wanted.’

'How long?’ and Sulu’s biting down just where Chekov’s neck meets his shoulder, sucking a bruise onto him while dragging Chekov’s arms together, fitting those slim wrists underneath just one of his hands and squeezing hard enough to mark Chekov’s skin – and, _christ_ , Chekov is making about a thousand different little sounds of appreciation and Sulu can’t believe he never thought to do this before.

Chekov lifts his hips when Sulu backs away, just a bit, just to get his free hand down between them and Chekov’s licking along his lower lip, his mouth open, panting for it already and it’s too easy for Sulu to lean forward and swipe his tongue into the heat of that mouth, kissing him hard and deep while his fingers tug at the fastenings of Chekov’s pants, 'I asked you a question Ensign.’ Sulu says, sliding the words along Chekov’s wet, reddened lips.

'I saw you.’ Chekov starts, gasping when Sulu finally shoves his hand down into his pants, Sulu’s long, slender fingers wrapping around the hot length of Chekov’s cock, sliding, slowly along the weight of him and down to the root, 'You and the Keptin.’

’ _I’m_ the Captain.’ Sulu growls and Chekov moans, arching up off the wall, Sulu’s fingers tightening around the thick base of Chekov’s cock and he strokes, once, hard, all the way up to palm the leaking head before just _holding_ him again, hand stilled until Chekov is close to whimpering.

'Yes, yes, da _Keptin_ , I am sorry.’

Sulu smiles against Chekov’s lips, licking into that sweet mouth again and jerking the tight fist of his fingers along Chekov’s cock, 'That’s better.’ he says, softly, shifting his hips until he’s got his still-covered cock pressed up against Chekov’s thigh, 'Tell me Ensign, what did you see? Did you watch it all?’ and Sulu’s mouthing his way up Chekov’s jawline to his ear, biting at the skin just underneath until Chekov’s trembling and he’s drops his voice down into a low groan when he adds, 'Did you get off from it?’

Chekov curses under his breath, some sharp exclamation in Russian that Sulu’s never heard before, 'Yes.’ he _sighs_ and, _christ_ , his mouth must be flooding with spit just thinking about it because he swallows, hard, and still can’t seem to stop himself from drooling, 'Kirk,’ he starts, swallowing again, 'he was, like me, held like this.’ and Sulu already knows exactly what Chekov’s seen, 'And you had your hand behind him, down his trousers, I have never, ah, never seen Kirk like that.’

'Not even with you?’

Chekov jerks in Sulu’s hand, hell, his whole body kind of stiffens for a moment as though he wasn’t expecting Sulu to ask that, to know that he’s been with Kirk, not that any of them are very good at keeping secrets, not that any of them mind the way they all seem to share each other – it’s part of what makes them fight as hard as they do.

'It is, ah, ah yes, different.’ and Chekov’s moaning when Sulu starts stroking his cock again, slower now, tightening his fingers intermittently and whispering, _keep_ going, against his mouth, 'You had your fingers in him, I know, I have seen the way Kirk is but he,’ Chekov stops, gasping, groaning and arching his hips forward to push through the fist of Sulu’s fingers and he can feel the pressure building up at the base of his spine, 'he was saying _Keptin_ , he was begging you for it.’

'And you?’ Sulu says, his hand stilling again and Chekov makes a broken sound from the back of his throat, _whining_ , 'Did you want to beg for it too, Ensign?’

'Ah, yes, _please_.’

Sulu smiles, his mouth pulling another wet bruise to the surface of Chekov’s shoulder, his fingers squeezing around Chekov’s wrists and his arm _aches_ from holding him up this whole time but it’s so worth it for the way Chekov trembles and whimpers when Sulu says, 'Please _what_.’

Chekov’s swallowing hard again, moaning around the spit in his mouth, ’ _Please, Keptin_.’ he _begs_ and Sulu barely has to move his hand before Chekov’s gasping and arching and _coming_ over Sulu’s knuckles, thick and hot and wet and Sulu moans, huffing out a little laugh that sounds a lot like he’s shocked and _amazed_ and _pleased_ that that’s all that Chekov needed from him.

When he finally releases Chekov’s wrists, Chekov immediately sinks down to his knees, his still shaking hands pulling open Sulu’s pants and, _jesuschrist_ , he’s licking the soaked head of Sulu’s cock into the spit-wet heat of his mouth and taking him straight to the back of his clenching throat all in one, long, perfect slide of his lips.

Sulu’s hand ends up in Chekov’s hair, his fingers winding through the sweat-dampened curls and he’s holding tight before tugging Chekov’s head back, until Chekov’s looking up at him – eyes bright and dark, face flushed, and mouth full of cock, ’ _Fuck_.’ Sulu curses, his hips bucking forward and he can’t look away from the way Chekov’s spit is dripping out from the edges of his stretched lips.

Chekov is so loud, so filthy and wet sounding that Sulu’s not going to last long at all.

And then Chekov’s pulling away, letting Sulu’s cock slip free from his mouth with a knee-weakening _pop_ and he’s looking up still, a little smile playing around the corner of his mouth, ’ _Keptin_ ,’ he says and his voice is hoarse, ruined, 'on my face, please.’

 _Jesus_ , Sulu thinks, groaning and suddenly understanding what Kirk gets from Chekov, what they get from each other – his free hand circles around his cock with his other still in Chekov’s hair and he’s jerking himself off, hard and fast and when the first wet stripe of his come hits Chekov’s face, covering his opened lips and soaking his tongue, Chekov moans for more, saying, 'Ah, Keptin, yes.’ like it’s all he’s ever wanted.


	13. Kirk/Chekov: The One Where Chekov is Captain

‘Call me Keptin.’ Chekov says with two of his fingers twisted into Kirk’s already lube-soaked hole – he’s got Kirk face-down against the Captain’s own mattress, working his fingers into him slow with his other hand sliding up Kirk’s back to curl into the sweat-dampened hair at the back of Kirk’s neck.

'Chek-’

'Nyet.’ and Chekov fucks his fingers into the heat of Kirk just a little bit harder, makes Kirk arch back and groan into the sheets, 'No. Try it again.’ he suggests, pulling his tangled fingers out to add a third to the bundle and Kirk’s thighs tremble when they slip open wider to fit Chekov’s fingers in just a little bit deeper.

'Sir,’ Kirk says, his voice shattering out into another moan and he has to turn his head to the side just to _breathe_ , his mouth open, panting, leaving his sheets wet from spit, ’ _Captain_ , please.’

And Chekov hears it immediately, hears that same little hitch he’s heard before, that little _thankful_ sigh that happens when Kirk’s readying himself to _let go_ , it comes out just after _please_ and Chekov’s leaning over Kirk’s back, twisting his fingers in and biting down against the faded bruise that already mars Kirk’s shoulder, 'Again.’ he mouths the word over the mark, drags his teeth against it, smiling when he thinks of Sulu seeing it later, 'Tell me what it is you want.’

Kirk pushes back, rolls his hips and fucks himself on the stretch of Chekov’s fingers, his spine curving beautifully and Chekov knows that he’s dragging the heavy weight of his cock up against the sheets, desperate for any kind of friction, 'Please, I want, ah,’ and Kirk gasps, groans, buries his face down for a moment before Chekov’s forcing his head back to the side with his other hand still tangled up in Kirk’s hair, ’ _fuck_ , I want you in me.’

'You know what it is I want to hear.’ Chekov says, his voice low, and he’s leaning back, pulling his fingers free with a wet, filthy sound – Kirk makes a noise in his throat that sounds a whole lot like a whimper and Chekov has to curl his hand around Kirk’s hip just to stop Kirk from shoving back again, 'Tell me.’ Chekov let’s go of Kirk’s hair, reaches down to fist his fingers around his own leaking cock, stroking himself close to Kirk’s stretched-out hole and pressing his wet head up against that tight pucker, just as a tease.

'C'mon Captain,’ Kirk breaks, finally, moaning around the words and the spit that’s flooding his mouth at the feel of Chekov’s cock pressed to him, 'fuck me,’ and he’s reaching back with both hands to grip his cheeks and pull them apart, showing Chekov the needy, hungry clench of his hole, 'please.’

And Chekov releases his hold on Kirk’s hip, sliding his hand over the rise of Kirk’s ass to press his thumb into the tight circle of Kirk’s hole just as he fits his cockhead in alongside it and Kirk’s voice is wrecked when he moans again, his fingertips digging into the meat of his ass, thighs shaking, and Chekov’s still, slowly, filling him up when Kirk shoves back – takes him down to the base in one fast push, 'That is how you want it? Hm, _Ensign_.’ and Chekov’s glad that his words are still, somehow steady.

'Yeah,’ Kirk says immediately, breathes the word out like it’s all he’s ever wanted and Chekov’s not sure if Kirk heard the rank or not, doesn’t especially care when Kirk moans, 'yeah _Captain_ , show me what you’ve got.’

It’s rougher than they’ve ever fucked with Chekov’s hands curled around Kirk’s hips hard enough that he’s digging bruises into Kirk’s skin and Kirk’s shoving back just as hard as Chekov’s pushing forward – their bodies meeting with a hard sounding slap and Kirk’s got his hands in the sheets again, all fisted into the fabric and pulling, whining, close to shouting.

And it barely takes anything at all when Chekov slips one of his hands around Kirk’s waist to fist around Kirk’s cock, stroking fast and they’re both nothing but harsh breathing and gasping, all cursing and wet sounds filling the room when they come one after the other – Kirk’s body tensing and his tight hole clenching around Chekov’s cock to drag his orgasm out of him.

—

'Fuck,’ Kirk says after, laying on his back with his legs still spread wide, breathing hard with Chekov half-draped over him, 'what is it with you two?’

'Sorry, Keptin?’

'You and Sulu and this whole Captain thing, I feel like I should watch my back or something.’

And Chekov laughs, just a little huff of air under his breath, 'It is not like that.’

'Not like what?’ Kirk asks, shifting a little so that he can see the small smile that’s playing at the corner of Chekov’s mouth.

'We are not doing it for us.’ and he can’t see Kirk’s expression but he can feel the question in the air between them without it having to be asked, 'Ai, Keptin, really? It is for you. You need the command taken away sometimes, we see it. And it is best to take it away in closed quarters, da?’

'Yes.’ Kirk says, pressing a quick kiss to Chekov’s temple that reads like an unspoken _thank you_ before he rolls them both so that he’s hovering over Chekov’s body and looking down at him with an eyebrow raised, 'Okay, but _Ensign_? Really?’


	14. Kirk/Bones: The One With Drunken Blowjobs

McCoy wakes up with his hips rolling forward and his breath coming out in low, shallow, half-asleep moans that he has no control over – there’s heat, damp and warm against his cock where it’s full and heavy, all pressed up against the cotton of his underwear.

He groans again, pressing his head to the side, cheek against his pillow and reaches down, his fingers brushing into soft, slightly wet hair and he jerks awake at the realization, ‘What in the hell,’ he grumbles, still in the process of waking up, shuddering into full consciousness when the heat of the mouth on him circles around the still covered head of his cock, spit soaking through the material, 'oh _christ_.’

“ello Bones.’ Jim says with his mouth hot and still surrounding McCoy’s cockhead – he’s got his fingertips curled just underneath the fitted waistband and McCoy can feel the way he’s trying to get them down and over his hips, ’'elp me out 'ere?’ he slurs, drooling out the words around the thick, heavy weight in his mouth.

And McCoy should know better than to oblige, especially with the way Kirk’s swaying, steadying himself with his fingers grabbing into McCoy’s hips for purchase just to keep from falling over, hell, he knows that Jim Kirk is drunk off his face, but oh, _oh_ , it’s been a long time since someone’s had their lips around his cock and he’s got to admit, the kid’s got an incredible mouth.

So he lifts his hips, just a bit, lets Jim pull and tug and drag his boxers down his thighs – and Jim fucking _whimpers_ when he has to pull his mouth away even for the half-second it takes to get them out of his way, diving right back in to take McCoy’s cock straight to the back of his throat in one smooth, sudden slide and McCoy jerks upwards, feeling the tight clench of Jim’s throat as his cockhead pushes past the kid’s gag reflex and, _jesuschrist_ , his mouth is so wet, so flooded with spit that it’s dripping down McCoy’s cock with each movement of Jim’s head.

Jim’s moaning, stretching his lips out to fit McCoy’s cock all the way down his throat, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking, his fingertips digging in to McCoy’s hips hard enough to bruise and, _fuck_ , _yeah_ , it’s so easy for McCoy to reach down and wind his fingers into Jim’s hair, holding him still and just thrusting up into that sweet, pliant mouth, 'Fuck, Jim.’

'Yeah _Bones_ ,’ Jim says, voice low and wrecked when he pulls back, his spit connecting his lips to McCoy’s cock in wet lines, 'fuck, I’ve fucking dreamt about sucking your cock,’ and he’s moaning again, dragging his mouth over McCoy’s leaking cockhead while he speaks, 'so good Bones, so fucking good, I want to taste it, c'mon.’

McCoy /groans, fisting his hands full into Jim’s hair and tugging the kid’s head back just far enough that he can watch the way his cock sinks back into that soaking heat, can see the weight of it outlined against Jim’s cheek and, jesus, fuck, _yes_ , the pressure at the base of his spine and the pit of his stomach just builds and builds until he’s cursing and coming and filling the easy slide of Jim’s throat with the thick pour of his orgasm.

Jim takes it all, swallows it down and licks his lips when he leans back, chasing the way McCoy’s come spills from the corners of his mouth with his tongue, moaning the whole time and McCoy’s still got his hands in Jim’s hair when he says, 'We shouldn’t’ve done this.’ with his voice gruff and gravely and low.

And Jim grins up at him, lips wet and swollen and red, ’ _You_ haven’t done anything.’ and he’s already licking his way up along the center of McCoy’s chest, his cock pressed up against McCoy’s hip by the time he’s finally hovering above McCoy and looking down at him with dark, pupil-blown eyes, ’ _yet_.’

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to wander over to my [Tumblr](http://exorin.tumblr.com) and say hi or request something!


End file.
